


Headless Haunting

by Pearl09



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Folklore, Halloween, How Do I Tag, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Canon, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:21:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27309829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearl09/pseuds/Pearl09
Summary: A mysterious figure seems to have appeared out of nowhere and is now haunting Crowley. With the few glimpses he has managed to see of the figure, all he can make out is that it's shadowy, and rides a steed. Is Death coming for Crowley, or is it something more sinister and unexpected?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19
Collections: Legendary Ineffables





	Headless Haunting

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [LegendaryIneffables](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/LegendaryIneffables) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Jack of the Lantern was turned away from both heaven and hell. Now he is determined to force either Crowley or Aziraphale to let him in.
> 
> Happy Halloween!!

Crowley was speeding down the dark, empty country road as Queen blasted out of the Bentley’s radio, chatting aimlessly with Aziraphale. They hadn’t expected to spend as much time in Tadfield as they had, but then again, it was hard to say no to the Them. The rambunctious group of kids had managed to find their contact information after the few minutes they had spent together at the airbase. Figuring it wasn’t a bad idea to keep an eye on the _real_ antichrist this time, they agreed to a meeting.

That meeting turned into another, and another, and another. They enjoyed playing games with the two, and in return, Crowley and Aziraphale were relieved to have someone else they could be themselves around. Not that they would admit it.

It was when he glanced away from the road for a second to look at Aziraphale’s reaction to something he said that it first happened. As usual, he hadn’t turned on his lights. He could see well enough in the dark and only remembered to turn them on if Aziraphale pestered him about it. When he looked forwards again, he caught a glimpse of something on the side of the road. A shadowy figure atop an equally dark steed. He slammed on the breaks and swerved off the road, cutting off whatever Aziraphale was saying as he gripped the door tightly at the sudden high-speed turn.

As soon as the car stopped, Crowley got out and looked back down the road. The brisk autumn air combined with the strange sight he saw sent chills down his spine. At his high speeds, however, he was now quite a ways from where he saw the figure, and the fog creeping in didn’t help his visibility. Even still, he searched for it, taking a few steps from the car to try and see further. There was nothing except the empty road.

“Are you quite alright, dear?” Aziraphale asked, cutting through the silence. Crowley turned back suddenly, finding him leaning over the driver’s seat to see him.

“Fine,” he lied.

“Why, you’re pale as a ghost. What’s wrong?”

“Thought I saw something,” he mumbled as he climbed back in, cranking the radio up louder before pulling back onto the road. The car remained silent other than the music after that. Aziraphale didn’t pick up their previous conversation or start a new one. Crowley couldn’t even remember where they left off in the conversation to start it again. He was too focused on driving noticeably slower the rest of the way back to the cottage, gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. He was still skittish as they finally left the car and walked the short distance to their front door, fallen leaves dragging across the surface of the pavement as the wind blew them around, sounding like a slow-moving car.

Either Crowley’s overactive imagination was starting to get in the way of reality, or this figure really was appearing and only he ever saw it. The next time it appeared was one of the rare nights he managed to get Aziraphale to fall asleep with him.

A storm had started after they were both fast asleep: sheets of rain fell so thick no one could see through them, wind howling strong enough to shake the trees, and booming thunder echoing out of nowhere like the voice of God. One of these claps of thunder woke Crowley with a jolt, sitting up in bed as the sound shook through his very being.

He looked to the window to try and see what was going on, but the dark cover of night along with the thick clouds made the glass look like a black square framed on the wall. It wasn’t long before the next strike of lightning illuminated the world outside – and made Crowley forget how to breathe. In that split second of blinding light, it illuminated a silhouette in the window eerily similar to the one he had seen in the car. He sat there terrified as the next clap of thunder burst forth, wondering what exactly was staring at him through the window and sending shivers down his spine, but when the next strike of lightning flashed, the figure was gone.

With a quick snap, the curtains of the room all flew shut, covering the windows so that nothing could see in or out. Unsettled, Crowley laid back down and tried to bury his face into Aziraphale’s side. He thought maybe snuggling with him would help him forget what he thought he just saw. He didn’t get any more sleep that night.

Those were the first of many times that he saw the figure. Most of the appearances happened at night, when the figure barely stood out against the background of the dark sky. There were a few other occasions where he swore he saw it out of the corner of his eye during the day. While he was gardening at the cottage, for example, trying to clear the leaves from the flower beds. Every time he saw it, he turned pale and seemed unusually quiet for the next hour.

“You know you can tell me what’s bothering you when you’re having trouble, right?” Aziraphale finally said one day, closing his book and setting it to the side as Crowley sat across from him, still and quiet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he managed.

“My dear, we may not have lived together for long now, but I have known you since the beginning. That’s some six thousand years now that we’ve known each other. Do you really think I can’t tell when you’re feeling bad? Or when something happens to you?”

He sighed and crossed his legs, pushing his sunglasses up to hide the fear in his eyes. “There’s been a vague, shadowy figure following me around. Or so it seems, since I only catch glimpses of it before it disappears. I would say I’m just paranoid, but it looks exactly the same every time.”

“A shadowy figure,” Aziraphale said, humming thoughtfully. “Any more details about this – silhouette?”

“They ride a steed.”

He paled at this news, thinking of all the possible figures who could be shadowy and riding a steed. “You don’t think it’s… one of the horsemen, do you?”

One of the horsemen was putting it lightly. They had both witnessed the death of three of the four horsemen, and though it was surely not permanent, they wouldn’t materialize again in only a few months. If this truly was a horseman, there was only one option: Death. “It might be. I’ve had a few… not so great run-ins with a few of them before, namely Famine. And, after everything we did to stop them and the apocalypse from happening…”

Aziraphale gave a small, understanding nod. “I haven’t felt any kind of strange presence one would expect to emanate from them, but then again, they surely know a way to hide it. Perhaps it would be best if you tell me the next time you see this figure, so I can see if I notice it again too.”

“Alright.” He paused and took a deep breath to try and calm his nerves, not registering the end of Aziraphale’s sentence immediately. When he did, his eyebrows furrowed so far they almost became one. “What do you mean, again?”

Folding his hands together in his lap, he stared at the for what felt like a long while to Crowley before answering. His tone was lower than usual. It was missing that spark he always had. “I saw Death in the park the day after the Apocalypse. Finished my sentence in a way as the angels tied you up without me noticing. Supposedly, that’s bad luck, but I had written it off because he didn’t know we had switched.”

Crowley ran his fingers through his hair, nails dragging against his scalp as he disheveled it. “You saw Death – Death _finished your sentence,_ and you never thought to tell me?”

“I was a little too preoccupied! Don’t tell me you weren’t caught up in the euphoria of outwitting and escaping Heaven and Hell to forget everything else?”

He thought back to after his release from Heaven in Aziraphale’s body, walking to wait on that park bench for Aziraphale to show up in his. There was never going to be an issue for him with the Hellfire, obviously, but he was worried that the angels would see right through their plan every step of the way. Or, some kind of power outside of their control would give them away, like how Crowley is supposed to sink through the water in the main entrance while Aziraphale walks across the surface. He then remembered Aziraphale’s delighted little wiggle when he was proud of himself for asking the demons if they had a rubber duck while he was in his Holy water bath. “Alright, you get a pass. If this is Death I’m seeing, I’m afraid we’re going to have bigger fish to fry.”

“Bigger… fish? Than what? I didn’t think the Kraken was going to come back–”

“It’s just an expression,” he said, waving it off and readjusting his position so he draped further across the chair, debating whether to make a glass of wine appear. Or a bottle.

Crowley never could get a good look at the figure to tell if it was Death. And by the time he would point it out to Aziraphale, if he was around, the figure would vanish. It was becoming frustrating. Waking in the night to see it in the window. Swerving to miss it while driving. Or worse, seeing it in the rearview mirrors, eerily moving closer without seeming to. He was living in his own personal Hell: every snap of a twig caused him to jump, every creak of a floorboard under his foot startled him.

“I don’t know who or what is haunting me,” Crowley said through gritted teeth, his fists clenched tightly after Aziraphale accidentally snuck up on him, “but I am seriously considering going back Downstairs to ask them about it.”

The look on Aziraphale’s face was shocked and concerned enough to make Crowley second guess himself – at least a little. “Is that really wise? I mean, what makes you think they would know anything?”

“Well come on, Angel, think about it. A dark, mysterious creature certainly isn’t something Heaven would know about. Or have. And it’s only stalking me, anyway. Who’s to say it’s not a demon they sent up to spook me? Maybe they want to keep me on my toes in the only way they know how, since they think they can’t hurt me? I mean, think of the possibili-OH.” he had turned around to find his glasses and there, almost up against the window, was the dark figure. In a blink it was gone, frost gathering in the corners of the glass. In another blink, the curtains pulled themselves closed tightly. They wouldn’t dare think about opening even the slightest without permission.

“What happened? Was it out there?” Aziraphale asked when he noticed the curtains close, having turned away too and just missed it.

“We have to do something, Angel,” Crowley said quietly in response. His hand was pressed into his chest, feeling his wildly beating heart trying to race up his throat. He wished he could get rid of it. “I can’t keep living like this.”

He hummed in thought. “Let me try something before you go to such drastic measures, dear. I’d rather not risk you getting hurt. A couple of phone calls and I might be able to get an answer. There’s an idea I had… well, it’s only an idea. No use explaining it until I can be certain.” Making sure his hand was in Crowley’s vision, he gently placed it on his shoulder, rubbing and squeezing reassuringly. 

With a sigh, Crowley leaned into the touch. “Alright. But if you don’t have answers by the end of the week–”

“If that happens, we will figure it out then. Let’s not waste time thinking about what might happen, for our time can be used better elsewhere. What would you say to some crepes?”

The next day, Aziraphale carried a tray of tea and biscuits into the room Crowley was hiding in. It was the room in the cottage with the least amount of windows, but even those had the curtains drawn tight. “Well, I believe I have an answer for you.”

“Really? Forgive me, but I find that hard to believe.”

Aziraphale sat the tray down and began fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket. “Well, from what I have gathered, we might have been wrong about young Ada having lost his powers after the apocalypse.”

“What?” Crowley sat up abruptly, his glasses falling askew. “What does that mean?”

“It means exactly what it sounds like, dear. It seems he is still doing unnatural things, and _might_ have made some fictional characters real.”

“You’re telling me… fairytales have come to life.”

“Well, not quite fairytales. More like folklore. No one is going to be climbing up towers using a rope of hair, or singing songs to wild animals that seem to understand them, but I can imagine there are more than a few people who would be thrilled at the thought of Mothman existing… Halloween is coming up, and it seems he’s been reading a lot about these things. I can’t tell which ones exist, or if they all do, but that’s the general idea.”

“The young Antichrist still has his powers. And he used them to bring folklore to life?”

“Yes, I just explained that. You should recall what he did before the end didn’t happen, dear. Aliens, Atlantis–”

“So we just ask him to – I dunno, reverse it? Make them cease to exist? And then I’m free?”

“Er, I’m afraid it’s not _quite_ that simple. The Headless Horseman has been around a few weeks now, after all, and–”

Crowley cut him off with a gasp, pushing himself out of his chair and closer to Aziraphale. “Not quite that simple? I’m being haunted by the bloody _Headless Horseman_ and you want to go and say we can’t just reverse it? I’m terrified to move those curtains. What if he’s lurking outside our window without us even knowing? It wouldn’t be the first time, and, if this continues, won’t be the last!”

“Well, we don’t know how Adam brought them into existence. Remember, the world righted itself after it didn’t end. Whether Someone did it or Adam was the reason, we have no knowledge of either.” Aziraphale kept a level head as Crowley continued to draw closer, almost trying to intimidate him into changing his mind. “So what if this was a subconscious decision? What if the ways he brought these tales to life are so interwoven with the Earth that he can’t get rid of them? It’s like pulling the end of a loose string and watching the entire fabric unravel. It’s too dangerous!”

“So what do you propose we do then? The fae could be real, kidnapping children in their mushroom rings, those phantom clown phonies could become an actual problem, and you don’t want to try and stop it?”

“I suppose we could give him what he wants?” he said, but his tone was half-hearted, like he was already giving up in defeat.

“No.” Crowley was decisive on this, a hard finality to his tone. Perhaps it was from the lack of sleep, or the loss of his sanity. He was done hiding, done cowering in fear. “I am going to put an end to this, once and for all.” There was a baseball bat in the corner of the room for the rare occasions the Them would make a trip to the cottage. Crowley stalked to it and picked it up, testing its weight by tossing it a few inches above his hand. 

Aziraphale grabbed the other end of the bat before Crowley could move anywhere else, a hard, serious look in his eyes “I can’t let you do this, Crowley. He’s just a child!”

“Just a child – for God-Satan- _someone’s sake_ , Angel, I’m not going to hurt Adam! Who do you think I am? This is for when that headless _loser_ reappears. I’ll knock him off his high horse; we’ll see how he feels about that.”

Reluctantly, Aziraphale let go of the bat. “Fine, but you’re not going it alone. I’ll get the car keys.”

Crowley propped the baseball bat up in the middle console, a crazed look in his eyes. Aziraphale climbed in next to him, barely having a second to close the door behind him before Crowley’s foot became lead and they started speeding off.

There was no doubt that Crowley had become at least somewhat unhinged. He had forgotten his sunglasses and didn't bother to go into the glovebox for one of his spares, showing that his usual somewhat human-looking eyes had lost their irises and become fully yellow. His mouth was sneered in a grimace, his canines a bit longer than usual as his teeth gritted together. His hands clenched the steering wheel with such force his knuckles were deathly white. It was almost haunting when he turned the radio on to fill the silence only for it to start playing ‘Another One Bites the Dust.’

About halfway through their drive, Crowley slammed on the breaks as something large and hairy ran across the road on two legs. He looked at Aziraphale with a semblance of ‘I told you so’ in his gaze before speeding off again.

When they arrived at the Young’s house, Crowley was the first to get out with his bat, resting it on his shoulder. Aziraphale hurried after him, determined to not let him alone be the only thing whoever opened the door would see. Luckily, after knocking, it was Adam who opened the door, a biscuit in his hand. 

His face lit up upon seeing who was at the door. “Crowley! Aziraphale! I didn’t know you were stopping by today!”

“Neither did we,” Aziraphale chuckled nervously.

“Do you want to play baseball? Is that why you have the bat? I don’t know if the others are around right now, they might be finishing up homework–”

Crowley cut him off. “Is there a place where we can talk with you?”

His smile fell and turned serious as he glanced behind him into the house. “The garden is free; I’ll meet you back there.” With that, he closed the door on them.

True to his word, it wasn’t long before Ada was in a jacket and scarf, exiting the back door with Dog close by his heels. “What is it you want to talk about?”

“It’s about what you’ve been, uh, reading recently,” Aziraphale said, hoping to steer the conversation as long as he could before Crowley grew mad. “With Halloween around the corner – well, have you had any dreams about, let’s say, vampires recently?”

“Vampires? No. But you know, I have been thinking about werewolves a lot. I mean, can you imagine it’s the full moon and there are just a bunch of hairy man-shaped wolves running around the streets?”

“Yes,” Crowley said tersely, “I can. Do you want to know how I can?”

Aziraphale placed a placating hand on his shoulder. “Adam, we think you still have your powers. More specifically, your ‘altering the very fabric of the Earth’ powers.”

“You mean werewolves are real?” he said with a smile in his tone.

“Adam, this is not a good thing!” Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose. “These things exist in books and books _only_ for a reason. They might have mystical powers, they might just be normal mythical creatures, but either way, they are a danger to everyone!”

“You must forgive him, what we believe is the Headless Horseman has been haunting him for weeks.”

“The Headless Horseman? Why, I remember reading about him. Then I started thinking about how similar he is to the others that were there at the Apocalypse, and what side he would have been on, and… oh. I’m the reason he’s here, aren’t I.”

Aziraphale nodded. “If you were that specific, there’s a chance he’s following Crowley trying to get into Hell. Perhaps being ‘spooky,’ so to speak, in order to show what he can do and why he is qualified to be there.”

“You have to get rid of him,” Crowley pleaded.

“I – I don’t know how.”

“Just – do whatever you did at the airbase with your father! You beat him and made him disappear, why not now?”

“I was just lucky! No offense, but that had higher stakes than this! The end of the world isn’t threatening us again, is it?”

“Well, no.”

Adam crossed his arms and stood his ground. “Then I’m sorry, but I can’t do it right away. I just need – some time, maybe some practice…” he trailed off as his breath started appearing in front of his face, collecting in small little clouds as he spoke. The wind picked up too, rustling leaves out of the trees, and fog started to block out the sun.

“He’s here,” Crowley said, noticing it too.

“You don’t think he heard us, do you?” Aziraphale said, gulping when he got a less than reassuring glance from Crowley. “Oh dear.”

“I don’t think he’s happy. He’s never done this before.”

“Well, would you be happy if you had overheard people wanting to be rid of you?”

Dog started barking at something behind the group, causing them to turn around. In the apple orchard behind the garden, the Headless Horseman himself rode upon his galloping steed, headed straight for them. The hooves echoed loudly even on the grass, and the fog grew thick as it trailed behind him.

“Look out!” Adam yelled, pulling Dog away and diving to the side. Aziraphale and Crowley moved to the other side of his path, watching as the horse trampled the bushes that served as the garden’s fence, wind buffeting them as he rode past and throwing their hair around. 

“Well this is quite the predicament,” Aziraphale said, watching as the Horseman pulled on the reins, the speed of his entry still carrying him out the other side of the garden. “Was that a pumpkin in his lap?”

“Yes, Angel, the pumpkin is carved and acts as his actual head, keep up with the times. We have more to worry about than that.” He pointed as the horse turned and reared on its hind legs, letting out an almost ear-splitting whiny. “He’s coming back!”

“I don’t think that noise was a good thing,” Ada said, watching Dog paw at his ears. “What if he’s calling the others? Like some sort of warning?”

“Then we’re in even more trouble than we already are! You need to do something!”

“I already told you! I don’t know how!”

“Bollocks! You created these things subconsciously. Imagine the power you could have if you actually focused it and used it properly! All it takes is focussss!”

“How do I focus when that is running after us!” Their conversation was cut short as the horseman rode back through, his hands swooping low and trying to grab them as he passed.

“Think of it this way, Adam,” Aziraphale said, trying for a softer approach. “The stakes might not be as high, but there are still stakes. Currently, if we don’t get rid of him, who knows how long he will go for? Who knows what would happen if he manages to catch us?” He gulped as the horse turned around again. “And – if he did call the others – that’s more of an issue for the future. Can we really let something this dangerous stay roaming around the world among the innocent, defenseless humans?”

A spark of fear appeared in Adam’s eyes before they had to dodge the horse again to avoid being trampled. “I don’t know that I can do it by myself.”

“We’ll be right here with you,” Crowley said, reaching out his hand to pull Adam close.

“Just like the airbase,” Aziraphale added, taking his other hand. “You don’t ever have to do this alone.”

Adam nodded as he held their hands, squeezing them for support. This time, as the Horseman charged again, they stood their ground, starting the threat and imminent doom in the face. Adam took a deep breath and waited until the horseman was close enough to hear him speak.

“You have terrorized this world long enough,” he said, growing more confident with each word. “You don’t belong here, or in Heaven, or in Hell. You belong to the fictional world, and that is where you should stay. You, and anyone else I might have accidentally brought to life since this started.” He was almost upon them now – only a few seconds lay between him and them being trampled. Just in time, Adam’s voice changed – it wasn’t the terrifying, soul-scaring voice that belonged to The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of this World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness, or one that put the fear of God into men, but one that belonged only to Adam, showing just how powerful he actually was while still holding onto his humanity. “LEAVE!”

And just like that, as the horse’s hair tickled Adam’s nose, the Headless Horseman disappeared, his pumpkin falling to the ground amidst a cloud of dust before crumpling itself. They stood there in silence for a few seconds and stared at the spot as the air around them started warming to a brisk autumn day again.

It wasn’t until Mrs. Young called, “Adam, the next batch of biscuits are done, do you still want to decorate them?” when they finally came back to the moment, letting go of each other’s hands.

“I’ll be right there, Mum!”

“Oh, biscuits sound lovely right now,” Aziraphale said, adjusting his jacket. “And alongside a nice hot cup of tea, how delightful.”

“You can come in if you want to help; I’m sure mum would let you have some.” Adam shoved his hands into his pockets. “Maybe then you’ll give me a chance to apologize.”

“There is no need to apologize,” Crowley said, pulling a pair of sunglasses from his blazer pocket that seemed to appear out of nowhere. “However, to avoid more situations like this in the future, I think we need to work on your powers. How likely am I to convince your parents to let me tutor you?”

He smiled. “They might be more convinced if you say it’s for a subject I’m not good at in school, or just to watch me while they’re at work. But, I’m sure we could always work something out. Say, do you think I could make my Halloween costume appear out of thin air? I don’t know that everything I have is going to work–”

“All in due time,” Crowley interrupted, resting his hand on his shoulder. “I think clearing the world of its accidental cryptids is enough for one afternoon.”

“Alright, alright. Say, you can shift into a snake, right? Can you teach me how to do that? Or any kind of animal?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, earning a chuckle from Aziraphale. “You certainly are excited about this. And here we weren’t even sure you still had your powers. We’ll help you together, as best we can, so you can reach your full potential. How does that sound?”

“I don’t like the word potential,” he said, sticking his tongue out, “But I guess it sounds okay.”

“And no more hauntings,” Crowley said, wagging his finger.

With a sweet but devilish smile, Adam replied, “No promises.”


End file.
